Do They Think That Walls Can Hide You?
by Royal Typewriter
Summary: Like it or not, your fates are crossed. New chapter!
1. Collisions

"For cryin' out loud, where _is_ she?" Brianne gently shook off one of the newer toddlers, Lisa, who was now clinging to her skirts. "_Amelia!_"

There was a moments' pause before the familiar sound of the too-big boots hurriedly made their way into the kitchen. Amelia looked abashed as she wiped her hands down the sides of her dress. Brianne gave her a quick once-over before speaking.

"I've been calling you for the past ten minutes, at least. We're almost out of coal."

"Will you be needing me to head over to the market, then?"

"Well, where else would you have me send you? The bakery?" Brianne sighed and picked up Lisa, who was unrelenting in her conquest to get some kind of attention. "Run along now and get this week's coal money, and don't be keeping any for yourself— I'll know if you do, I mean it."

"Right away, mum." Amelia turned back towards the counter where the money jar was. Reaching up, she took hold of it and unscrewed the lid, shaking out a few coins and dropping one or two back in. She nearly tripped over Brianne in her hurry to grab the scarf she and some of the other girls shared.

"Make sure you get the money's worth," she warned. "And you best not take too long either, or you'll definitely hear it later." Amelia simply nodded; she knew Brianne well enough to realize that she didn't mean half of what she said, she just liked at least pretending to have a degree of authority. Lightly hitting her pocket to make sure the money was intact, Amelia slid the lock open and braced herself against the wind. For early winter, the temperatures in London were especially brutal this year.

"Don't fall, miss!" a man in a large hat jeered as she slipped on the doorstep. Amelia regained her balance and hopped down off the porch of the orphanage. She didn't bother addressing the man—likely he was some drunken brute who wouldn't even remember her the next day.

The road to the market was a fair way, so she kept herself amused by filling in other peoples' footprints with hers. Occasionally the blustery air would whip at her scarf, causing her to slide backwards a foot or so. She was usually the one sent on errands, Amelia said to herself, only because she'd been with Brianne for so long. She knew her way around much better than any of the new orphans, and anyway they'd have no idea what to do about the random people who liked to throw comments their way.

Upon arriving at the rows of shops, Amelia rolled her eyes. "The whole _town's_ here today," she muttered, trying to squeeze through a row of women in overly large bustles. They responded with shocked gasps, and fanned themselves repeatedly despite the already more-than-healthy breeze.

"Spare change, miss?" a ragged-looking young urchin wheedled, giving her a sideways glance.

"Bobby, I _know_ you," she said after a moment's pause. "Go bother someone else." He grinned and adjusted his leg that was tucked into his trousers.

"Only if you don't tell them I'm not really missing a leg." With that, he hopped off pitifully, using the crutches he'd found lying at the curb a few weeks back.

"Pity the woman he convinces to marry him," Amelia sighed. She turned and stood up higher, trying to locate the coal vendor this week. He was usually right by the fish seller, who was always trying to get her to buy some. That would've been all fine if they had been dead, but the ones he constantly tried to push on her were very much alive. Amelia never seemed to be able to get through his head that there was no use for fish at an orphanage. After careful evaluation, she found the cart at the far end of the road, by another one selling brightly colored jewelry. All sorts of women were clustered around _that_ one, because unlike Amelia, they had money to buy it.

"Pardon me," she mumbled as she edged through the crowd to the shop she needed to be at.

"Ah, Miss Amelia, back for more coal?" Geoffrey, the vendor, had grown accustomed to her coming by over the years. He was considerably older now, but he distinctly recalled her trying to reach the counter when she was about seven. She'd gotten taller in the nine years that followed, but not by terribly much.

"It's like this is a routine or something." Amelia smiled and shook out the coins while Geoffrey shoveled some into a sack for her.

"How's Brianne doing?" he asked her that every time, and every time the answer was the same.

"Insane."

It had become something of a joke between them, even though they both knew Geoffrey fancied Brianne plenty.

"Tell her I say hello, then?"

"I'll make sure to." Amelia dragged the sack of coal across the counter and backed up slightly. She hadn't expected it to be quite so heavy, and looked at Geoffrey questioningly.

"It's been cold lately." He shrugged. Amelia smiled again, and backed up a few more steps, trying to adjust the bag. She wasn't counting on tripping on the icy gravel and nearly crushing someone else.

"Oh!" She registered the voice of the person behind her as sounding just as surprised as she was. Amelia dropped the sack and slipped into the snow, also letting out an 'oh!'

"I'm sorry, really," she spluttered, wiping snow off her face and groping for her coal.

"My apologies," the other girl said at the same time. Amelia froze—just her luck to knock over someone refined from _town_. She shook her hair back. At least it wasn't anyone too much older than her. If she'd happened to collide with an elderly woman, she'd have really gotten it once Brianne heard about it.

"My fault, I slipped." Amelia stood up, brushing herself and at the same time attempting to help up the other girl.

"If you slipped, it was an accident." She bent to pick up the sack, but found she couldn't. Town girls tended to have that air of delicateness about them.

"It's heavy, I've got it." Amelia hauled it up onto her shoulder.

"Have I seen you around before?" the girl asked, cocking her head. She had a wide-eyed look to her, and despite her excessive coats, was quite pretty. Her hair was just the color yellow Amelia had always secretly wished for.

"I doubt you have, I live over at the—down that way." She jerked her head. "Where do you live?"

"Over by the bookstore, only I don't get out very much." The girl sighed. "I got to come today because no one wanted to leave me at home unattended."

"You're unattended right now." Amelia gave her a quirked smile.

"Not for long." She rolled her gray-flecked eyes towards a man striding their way. "I'm always in trouble with him, you watch."

He was an imposing figure, and looked none too happy to see his ward in the presence of a common street child. Amelia felt the need to look away as he gave her a condescending glare.

"Johanna, I've told you not to make conversation with these urchins. What were you doing over here anyway?"

"They—I—someone here was selling jewelry, and it looked rather lovely." Her voice seemed to change from harmonic to almost forced as she spoke to the man.

"Johanna?" Amelia spoke up without thinking. "I like that name—"

"Get out!" the man brandished his cane at her, narrowly missing her arm.

"Stop that," Johanna pleaded. "She was just being nice, and besides, I had to apologize for knocking her over."

"You don't apologize. She was the one who knocked you over, you fool. Come along." He forcefully pulled her by her arm, and she had no choice but to follow. Amelia, quite shocked, gave her a brief nod of farewell, but Johanna's arms were held too tightly for her to attempt a wave back.

Amelia had absolutely no idea what to make of the situation, and so she simply shook her head a moment before making her way back home.

**This is most definitely experimental, but I know where I'm taking it. Tell me what you like, dislike, etc. Otherwise I'll have to take it off (again). ******

**- Katie**


	2. How Strange

After bringing home her coal, Amelia, much to Brianne's relief, opted not to stay home and spread cabin fever among the other children. She dropped off the bag and promptly walked back outside.

"Get back here before it gets dark, you, or I'll not be sending anyone off looking for you," Brianne called after her.

"I know, I know," Amelia said to the door as it closed. She hopped into the snow once more, leaving a satisfying set of footprints ankle-deep. Not quite sure where she wanted to go, she simply walked in the direction she'd landed. She didn't realize until she'd been wandering a ways that she was right in front of the bookstore.  
_"I doubt you have, I live over at the—down that way." She jerked her head. "Where do you live?"  
"Over by the bookstore, only I don't get out very much." _

Amelia turned to look at the row of equally depressing-looking houses that lined the curb across the street. There was practically no way of telling which one was Johanna's, a thought that made her surprisingly sad. Had these been houses like the ones near where she lived, she'd have not thought twice about going door to door until she found her new friend. This was town, though, an entirely different story—and she had no desire to cross paths with that temperamental man again. Amelia shuddered at the thought of that cane. How could anyone stand living with someone so strict? She gave the street a final once-over before turning to go, nearly bowling over a ragged-looking woman.

"I'm so sorry!" she exhaled loudly. "That makes twice today, too, first Johanna and now you…"

The woman gave her a strange look and swayed in place, slightly to Amelia's alarm. "Johanna?"

"Yes, I ran into another girl today by that name. Supposedly she lives around here."  
Amelia watched her blink several times before slowly pointing to a cobalt-colored establishment about two houses down from where they stood.

"Is that where she lives?"  
There was a moment's pause, during which the woman simply blinked a bit more and walked away as if nothing had happened.

"How strange." Amelia stood awkwardly by herself at the lamppost before deciding there was no harm in at least _looking_ at the house a little closer. She crossed the street and situated herself at the gate. Most of the curtains were drawn across the windows. Amelia wondered if perhaps the weather was getting to some people, as she couldn't imagine a more miserable-looking residence.

"It's you!"

Shocked, Amelia leapt backwards as though a spider had appeared. She glanced around before realizing that the voice was coming from above her. So the woman had been right—Johanna was there in the only open window. She leaned over the sill.

"How on earth did you find out where I lived?" there was an air of admiration in her voice.

"I got lucky," Amelia called. Johanna's eyes widened.

"You have to be quiet! If Judge Turpin hears you, we're both done for."

"Would you like me to leave?" Amelia politely backed up a few more steps and toed the ground lightly.

"No, no! Don't go." Johanna leaned out further and seemed to analyze the house directly under her. "See that ledge there? Could you get up onto it?"

"Of course." Amelia, despite Brianne's disapproval, found much enjoyment from climbing the trees out in the back of the orphanage and promptly stepped over the gate.

"Just don't make any noise…don't go too fast if you think you might fall."

"You're the one who's going to fall, you ought to get back inside a bit more," Amelia looked up as she swung one leg onto the ledge. Johanna retreated into the window a little more, but kept watching as Amelia scaled the wall.

"Where'd you learn to climb like that?" she asked in awe as Amelia came face to face with her, grasping the sill.

"There're a lot of trees around my house." She motioned for Johanna to step back and slid into the room on her stomach. There was a minor thump as she came into contact with the ground, and they both froze. No one else in the house seemed to hear, and Amelia slowly stood back up.

"Think anyone heard?"

"I think if they had, we'd have heard _them_." Johanna listened a bit longer then nodded as if to say they weren't in any danger of being caught.

"Who else lives here?" She cocked her head.

"That awful judge," Johanna whispered. "And his beadle might as well too, but he's only here most of the time."

"Where's your mother at?" Amelia asked before she could stop herself.

"She's been dead since I was born." Johanna said it as though she'd been saying it her whole life, and the concept was nothing new. "And my father left her, supposedly."

"That's terrible," Amelia said softly. "I've no idea what happened to mine, Brianne just tells me I got dropped off one day by someone who hadn't even named me."

"Brianne?"

"She's the one who runs the orphanage," Amelia explained. "I don't even remember getting there, I was hardly a day old."

"What did you end up being named?" Johanna paused, then giggled. "I'm sorry. We've met twice today and I don't even know your name."

"Oh! Yes, sorry. I'm Amelia." She shyly put her hands behind her back.

"And you're from that orphanage down there?" Johanna motioned in the general direction.

"That's why I was so surprised we ended up talking." She smiled at the ground. "Most people like you don't associate with people like me."

"I'm not allowed to associate with anyone—and besides, you're so much more interesting with the people I see every day." Johanna sat on her bed. "I've got no problem talking to most people I meet, even though the judge seems to think anyone he doesn't know is beneath me." She shrugged.

"How come he's so strict?" Amelia came nearer the bed, and Johanna made room for her to sit.

"I've no idea, but I don't even go to school. Everything I learn comes from books he gives me, and I'm usually locked up here with these two." She gestured to a birdcage with two inhabitants. "I get so bored, sometimes I make up songs about them."

"Don't you ever go outside?" Amelia asked incredulously. Johanna shook her head.

"I'd go mad living here," she said finally. She rose and casually walked around the room, observing Johanna's clothes and mirror. "You have a lot of pretty things, though."

"They're usually the judge's way of keeping me occupied," Johanna sighed, walking over and picking up her brush. She paused a moment before running it through Amelia's hair.

"Ow!" she winced. "That hurts!"

"Well, yes, your hair's frightfully tangled." Johanna struggled with the brush until it went smoothly. "It's lovely, by the way."

"The tangles?"

"No," Johanna giggled. "Your hair. I've always wanted hair that brown."

"We should swap, then." Amelia smiled. "The first thing I thought when I met you was how you'd got the color hair I wish I had."

"You want yellow hair?" Johanna looked at Amelia through the window. "It's quite boring, at least to me. If it were up to me, you could keep it."

"Don't all the young men you meet love it, though?" At this, Johanna again looked slightly sad.

"_Definitely_ no young men. I think it's the judge's will that I never, ever talk to any male under the age of…however old he is…a thousand."

Amelia laughed. "You're terrible!"

Johanna smiled before also laughing. "I am, aren't I? Forgive me, that was cruel." She looked as though she were about to keep talking, but stopped suddenly. "Don't move."

"Why?"

Johanna motioned for her to stay quiet, and listened. There were _definitely_ footsteps coming up the stairs. Both girls' eyes widened.

"You have to leave." Johanna rushed to the window and looked down. "I'd have you hide, but I've no idea what he wants, and if he were in here long enough he'd find you, I'm sure of it—quick, get out through the window!" The footsteps came nearer and Amelia panicked inwardly.

"Will I be able to come and see you again?" she interrupted suddenly.

"Oh, you have to." Johanna looked shocked. "It'd be terrible if you didn't—look, come by tomorrow, I'll wait right here by the window where I can see you. If it's safe, I'll have you come up. And I'll try and find someplace for you to hide—just in case. I'd just hate for—Amelia, get over the window!" She suddenly pushed her towards the sill, as the door was being unlocked.

Amelia swung her feet over the ledge and turned to wave to Johanna, but lost her balance and slid down the side of the house until she hit the ridge a few feet down. She could hear Johanna talking as though nothing had happened, and found herself wondering if she'd be all right. Amelia lowered one foot down but miscalculated the distance and practically flew the remaining few feet. She unearthed herself from the snow she was now imprinted in.

"All right, there?"

She shook snow off her hair and realized her nose was nearly touching a pair of black boots. Quickly, she stood up and brushed herself.

"Still graceful, I see." The voice teased lightly. Amelia looked up—and up.

"Anthony!"

**How'd **_**that**_** happen? **


	3. Excitement

**I don't actually own Turpin, Johanna or Anthony (sigh). But Amelia, Brianne, Doctor Harper, Geoffrey and anyone in the orphanage…they're mine.**

"Amelia!" Anthony responded with equal enthusiasm before she tackled him.

"What're you doing back?" she grinned up at him. "I thought you said you were going to leave forever and marry someone in every country you visited."

"That was the original plan." Anthony shook her off a little so he could breathe. "Anyway, I did end up seeing a lot of countries—apparently there _are_ more than twenty in the world. But we docked back here just after we left Australia."

"Australia? Where's that?"

"It's this island where they keep convicts. Dangerous people." Anthony lowered his voice slightly. "I did meet someone leaving there though, a Mr. Todd. He's rather pleasant, didn't like talking much though. He's here too, over at that pie shop." Amelia winced at that—she'd been with Brianne a few times, who was friends with the owner, Mrs. Lovett. She was friendly enough, but she had no idea how to cook.

"Did you miss us?" Amelia prodded.

"Of course—you were practically my siblings! How's Brianne, by the way? Still insane?"

"Still insane." Amelia laughed. "We've gotten a few new ones since you left."

"Little? Big?"

"Mostly little, like Lisa. She's only been there a few weeks, so I don't think she's very happy yet."

Anthony shrugged. "I'd been there my whole life, so I don't rightly remember being happy or not when I arrived."

"Are you going to come see Brianne and everyone?" Amelia bounced excitedly. "She'd be really happy, seeing how none of us expected to see you again, at least not for awhile."

"Absolutely!" his face lit up. "Though I must ask before we go—what on earth were you doing climbing out a window?"

"Oh!" Amelia blushed. "Well, that's a long story…maybe not too long. I ran into this girl Johanna earlier, at the market, and then I sort of just found her house…only the person she lives with is terrible and doesn't let her talk to anyone, so I had to go up to see her."

"I see." Anthony looked up to see Johanna, who was still talking to Judge Turpin. "She's quite pretty."

"Isn't she? I told her I loved her hair, and she actually said she liked mine better! Can you imagine?"

"I can't," Anthony joked, tugging one of her untamed-looking curls.

"You're terrible." Amelia shook her head until he let go. "Come on, Brianne's going to be so happy to see you." She pulled on his arm.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Anthony laughed, turning to look inside once more before allowing himself to be dragged in the direction of the orphanage.

Amelia threw the door open, earning her a strongly-worded warning from Brianne in the next room. She ignored it in favor of more thrilling news.

"Brianne! Look who's here!"

"If it's Geoffrey again—" Brianne rounded the corner, holding Lisa. Upon seeing who it was, she nearly dropped her. "_Anthony!_"

This time, he barely got his greeting out before being suffocated.

"Brianne! I can't breathe!"

"Sorry, sorry." She let go only to hug him again. "What—how—when did you get back?"

Lisa clung to Brianne's legs while Anthony recounted his travels up until coming back to London. "No place like London," he grinned. At this point, some of the other children had heard the commotion and come to investigate. He was mobbed by the ones who knew him, and at least approached by the ones who didn't. In the midst of so much enthusiasm, Amelia quite forgot to mention Johanna to Brianne.

It was decided that Anthony would stay awhile (at Brianne's insistence). Even hours later, everyone under the age of thirteen was clustered around him, demanding more stories.

"Did you go all the way to the English Channel?" one called Robert asked eagerly.

"He went further than that, stupid." Another named Anna looked expectantly at him. "Right, Anthony?"

"He's certainly got their attention," Brianne commented happily. Amelia simply nodded. A moment later, one of the new babies began crying from the other room.

"That'll be Allen again." Brianne looked worried. "That cough of his is getting worse…the doctor should be here any moment."

"He'll be all right?" this was said as more of a statement, but Amelia was actually hoping for some reassurance. It was always distressing to see someone that young lost to sickness.

"I hope so." She left a moment to retrieve Allen. Amelia waited by the door and could see the doctor coming by through the window.

Brianne returned, holding a very worn-out-looking Allen.

"I'd be tired too if I'd been coughing so much," Amelia told him sympathetically. "Doctor Harper's here, though."

"Get the door?" Brianne asked, trying to settle him down a bit. A moment later, the doctor appeared in the house.

"Allen, I take it?" he moved to observe the baby. "He doesn't sound like he's having much fun, does he?"

Amelia paused—she preferred not to be around when the doctor was. She liked _him_ well enough, but she could never stand the actual examination.

"Brianne, I'm going out…" she said softly. She didn't seem to hear, so Amelia quietly backed up and shut the door behind her. It wasn't too dark yet, but it would be in an hour or so. That was plenty of time for a quick visit; after all, Johanna _had_ said to come back the next day, but there was probably no harm in going a bit earlier than that. Amelia eagerly followed the path back to town and straight to the Turpin house. As she'd expected, Johanna was at the window and appeared to be sewing.

"Johanna!" she called as loudly as she deemed safe. It was enough to get her attention, and she smiled.

"Sorry I didn't wait till tomorrow!" Amelia added hastily. "I just thought you might not mind."

"I don't, but come up here. I have to tell you something." Amelia had to listen carefully, because Johanna was whispering more than she was talking. Cautiously, she swung back onto the ledge and up the side of the house. This time, Johanna steadied her before she came over the window so as not to make any noise at all.

"Is something wrong?" Amelia was suddenly concerned that this might not be good news.

"_Yes_, something's wrong." Johanna looked all about her before leaning in closer. "Judge Turpin wants me to marry him."

"He what?" Amelia blinked. "But he's so _old_."

"I know!"

"And didn't he sort of raise you?"

"Yes!"

"I take it you aren't as enthusiastic about this as he is." Amelia ventured. Johanna sighed and looked as though she were about to cry.

"I don't want to marry him, he's terrible." She blinked several times and swallowed hard.

"Oh, don't do that, I couldn't stand it if you started crying," Amelia pleaded. "Look, what if you came out for a bit with me tonight?"

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, nowhere…I just meant that you might come with me and meet Brianne. And Anthony! He's so much fun, you'd really get along. And I'm sure they wouldn't notice you were gone…does he usually come up here at night?"

"Not usually." Johanna thought a minute. "He leaves me to myself most of the time after supper. And supper was an hour ago."

"Why not, then?" Amelia urged. "We'll come back before anyone suspects anything. Look, shove your bedclothes under that blanket there and I'll show you how to climb down."

"You mean it?" Already Johanna was beginning to arrange the covers to look like she was there.

"Of course I mean it, let's go." She tugged her arm and leaned out the window. "Do what I do. See that brick? It's going to be your foothold." Amelia eased herself out and looked up. "Do you think you can do it?"

Johanna nodded and carefully slid over the windowsill. She froze until Amelia showed her what to do next. "Just hold onto the ledge and go down slowly." There were a few times when Johanna nearly lost her balance, but it was easier with Amelia bracing her. When they got nearer the ground, she grabbed her arm.

"We're both going to jump at once, and if we do it far enough, we don't have to climb over the gate."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Johanna looked concerned.

"Not at all." Amelia grinned. "But I fell today and I was fine, so it should be." She held on. "Ready?"

Johanna nodded and they both leapt the remaining few feet. They, as Amelia had predicted, landed safely outside the gate.

"Do you think they heard us?"

"The snow's too deep," Amelia assured her. "Come on. Brianne's going to love you, she loves everyone even if she pretends not to." Johanna glanced back once more before following her across the street.


	4. Realization

Upon arriving at the orphanage, Amelia noted that it was very quiet. The doctor's coat was still hung up at the entrance, and she became more concerned for Allen.

"Doctor Harper's still here for one of the babies," she explained. Johanna looked worried.

"What's wrong with him?"

"It's just a cough, really," Amelia assured her. "Let's go see if they're almost done. Allen's likely asleep by now, I'm sure Doctor Harper's just talking to Brianne." They softly treaded past the bedrooms where many of the children were sprawled over one another, and the one next to it where Anthony was staying with some of the older boys.

"I don't think he's asleep yet," Amelia said, peering in through the crack in the open door. "He's just laying there reading. Maybe we could come see him after I show you Brianne."

Johanna simply nodded, as she wasn't quite sure how to behave in a home that seemed so casual as opposed to hers. She was also fairly sure she wasn't supposed to go near anyone her age, much less a boy. She peeked inside before she could stop herself and decided that Anthony was much more handsome than either Turpin or the beadle. That wasn't saying very much, but still.

Amelia tugged her sleeve gently and they quietly made their way to the nursery. The door was mostly shut, and Brianne and the doctor were in fact involved in discourse.

"Let's wait," Amelia whispered. "They'll be done in a bit." She slid against the wall into a sitting position and leaned against the doorframe. Johanna hesitated before joining her on the ground. She adjusted her skirts slightly and thought.

"Do you suppose it's anything bad?"

"No," Amelia murmured. "Allen's going to be fine…I'll have a listen, though, if you'd like."

"No, no," Johanna blushed and shook her head. "I was just curious."

"It's okay, I want to know what's going on." Amelia placed her ear closer to the door and motioned for Johanna to stay silent.

Brianne was sitting on the rocking chair next to Allen's bed, checking over her shoulder every few moments. "Not many of these young babies survive, especially not during winters this harsh," she sighed. "I'd hate to lose him, he's terribly sweet."

"Now, Brianne, you know some of them make it through." Doctor Harper cocked his head. "That Amelia of yours, you've had her since she was even younger than Allen."

At the mention of her name, Amelia's attention was caught further.

"Very true," Brianne smiled. "Yes, I remember it well, the day she was brought here. Horribly sad circumstances."

"Had something happened to her parents?" Doctor Harper seemed intrigued.

"Oh, no, I'm sure one of her parents was the one who gave her up."

"Johanna! They're talking about my parents," Amelia hissed. "Listen!"

"She was practically newborn," Brianne continued. "I couldn't imagine giving up your own child on the day she was delivered. At least, near that day—we call that her birthday anyway."

Doctor Harper nodded slowly. "When is her birthday, might I ask?"

"November the twenty-third," she nodded confidently. "I could never forget that day."

"The twenty-third?" Doctor Harper's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses.

"Is something the matter?" Brianne suddenly seemed dismayed. "If it offended you at all—"

"No, no, it's just that…I myself delivered a child on that day. It's a coincidence, though, I'm sure of it, I merely found it slightly odd. It must've been different years, of course, it was what…?"

"She's sixteen," Brianne supplied at the same time Doctor Harper concluded, "Sixteen years ago."

There was an awkward silence that filled the room and the hallway just outside it until Brianne ventured, "Perhaps many babies had been born on that day."

"Perhaps." Doctor Harper crossed one leg over the other and pondered. "The one who brought her here—what was she like?"

"Oh, it wasn't a she, Doctor. It was most definitely a man. Tall, ungainly sort. He hadn't even bothered to name her, just sorta dropped her on my table and told me to keep her. Gave me money, too…I really don't think he was all that sorry to be rid of her."

"He didn't want me?" Amelia kept her ear pressed to the door, but her legs had begun shaking. "W-what?"

Johanna, who was very familiar with the notion of not being wanted, put her arm around her. Her father had left her mother too, after all, and that was certainly just as bad.

"Brianne." Doctor Harper stood up suddenly, looking very much alarmed. "Brianne, I _did_ deliver Amelia. I'm sure of it."

"Well, what's the problem with that?" she cocked her head, not understanding the problem. "I've known a few of the people who've brought children here. It's awkward, no doubt, but it's nothing terrible."

"You don't realize what I'm saying." He paced the perimeter of the room before stopping to rock on his heels. "It was at the Turpin house."

"What?" Brianne's mouth dropped slightly. "You don't mean—"

"He's not married, Brianne. Who's the only other woman he's had near him in years?"

"You don't…it can't be…"

"_Lucy_, Brianne!" Doctor Harper pounded his fist on the table next to him, and Brianne quickly jumped up to see if it had disturbed Allen. He was still sound asleep, so she absentmindedly fixed his blanket before turning back.

"You've got to be joking, Doctor."

"Brianne, think for a moment! Why do you think as soon as he got rid of Ben we all stopped seeing her around? Everyone's heard the stories, you know she couldn't leave that house once he got a hold of her, and after that happened…" he paused, choking slightly. "There's some things that can't be hidden once they've been done."

"But—why?"

"He wasn't counting on Amelia when he raped her, Brianne." Doctor Harper said bitterly. "What was he supposed to do? Let her go about town and have people wonder how _that_ happened when they all knew Ben was long gone by then?"

"Oh, God." Brianne slowly sank back into her chair. "Poor thing."

Amelia had shaken her head violently throughout this whole conversation until just then bolting up and running. Johanna nearly tripped over herself getting up to follow her, and finally caught up at the front of the house just before the door. She caught Amelia's arm and pulled her back.

"Johanna, no one wants me!" she twisted her arm out of her reach and collapsed on the ground. "My _mom_ didn't even have a choice, it just happened!"

"Amelia, don't say that…"

"I'm the result of _rape_! What do you expect me to say?" she buried her head in her knees. "I bet she didn't want me either."

"Amelia, our mother loved both of us," Johanna snapped without meaning to.

At this, Amelia looked up in shock. "_Our_ mother?"

"Didn't you hear him? Lucy. That's her."

"_Your_ Lucy? The one your father left?"

"Our Lucy." Johanna slid down next to her, tears falling unnoticed. "He never left, Amelia, I'm sure of it. Doctor Harper said so just now. Judge Turpin made him."

"Judge Turpin as in…as in…my father?" Amelia swallowed. "The one that nearly had a go at me with his cane the day we met?"

"I am _so_ sorry." Johanna encircled her in her arms. "He didn't deserve you."

"My father wants to marry you," Amelia wailed. "That's _disgusting_." She laughed humorlessly before losing her composure completely.

There was silence save for the occasional sob that slipped out from either of them for the next few minutes. No one else in the house seemed to be aware of the current happenings, and the quiet soon became awkward.

"Johanna," Amelia finally ventured, looking up and wiping one side of her face with her sleeve, "Y'know…this could be good…if your father didn't leave intentionally, he might still be out there."

"He wouldn't come back." Johanna rested her head on Amelia's shoulder.

"How do you know that?" she sat up. "He could be right next door for all we know."

"I doubt it," Johanna sighed, "but if he were somewhere near me…"

"He has to be." Amelia brushed her skirt off. "We could find him."

"We don't know where to look," Johanna pointed out gently. "Amelia, it'd be wonderful, but it's really not very likely…"

"You can't go back to Turpin," Amelia protested. "I can't let you return to that house."

"Trust me, I wish I didn't have to." Johanna sighed. "But this isn't going to solve itself in one night."

"Who's solving what?"

Both girls gasped at the intrusion and turned to see Anthony leaning against the doorway, twirling his book.

**How much did **_**he**_** hear?**


	5. Anthony

I don't know why, but I feel I should interject that I wrote this chapter while under the influence of 80's music—especially H

**I don't know why, but I feel I should interject that I wrote this chapter while under the influence of 80's music—especially Hungry Like the Wolf.  
Anyway.**

"Anthony!" Amelia jerked upright. "We—"

Johanna simply blushed as Anthony gave them both curious looks. It was obvious he hadn't heard much, and Amelia calmed down.

"Well, you see," Johanna began politely. "The fact of the matter is, well, we, mm…it's not that…no, I guess it _is_ that…well…"

"We're sisters," Amelia interrupted impatiently. "Well, not exactly. We've got the same mother, but apparently she got the good father."

"What? How did you find that out?" Anthony set his book on the table and cocked his head slightly.

"How else does anyone find anything out here? We heard Brianne talking about it."

Anthony nodded in admittance. "You're right there, that's probably how I learned half of what I know about anything." He smiled before blinking a few times. "What were you saying, then, about who your father is?"

"Oh. A Judge Turpin."

"_Him_?" Anthony visibly backed into the couch. "The one who sets his beadle on you just for looking at his ward—I mean house?"

"When did that happen?" Amelia gasped.

"Not too long ago," he mumbled, trying to feign interest in fixing his hair. He glanced up at Johanna, who looked at him questioningly.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting forward.

"Nothing! Nothing," Anthony answered hastily, his cheeks turning bright red as he finger-combed his hair. "Amelia, finish what you were telling me."

"Okay," she agreed after giving him another once-over. "So what we were able to piece together is that _my_ father made _her_ father leave somehow, and then got ahold of _our_ mother." She paused. "Then I was born, but he didn't want anyone knowing about it, and I came here. And when _her_ mother left, _my_ father kept her," she motioned to Johanna, "and now he wants to marry her."

"Your father wants to marry her?" Anthony exclaimed. "That's _disgusting!_"

"That was my reaction precisely!"

"And mine," Johanna added. "Even though I really don't have much choice."

"I'll say you do!" Anthony puffed out his chest a little. "We need a plan!"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Yes, we know." Johanna giggled.

"We need someplace for her to go," Amelia explained. "She can't stay with him, otherwise before we all know it she'll end up shackled to him for life and next time we see her she'll be trying to keep track of all twelve of their children!"

"Amelia, calm down," Johanna's eyes widened. "_Twelve_? I'm not insane!"

"Please! The only way you wouldn't be forced to have that many is if he was too old to—"

"I know!" Anthony bolted up dramatically. When neither one seemed to hear him, as they were still arguing about just how many children Judge Turpin would spawn, he subtly sat back down and made a more deliberate _thump_ sound with his shoes upon standing.

"I know!" he interjected a bit louder. This time, they both turned. Anthony swallowed. "I know someone who might be able to help with keeping her safe."

"Really? Who?" Amelia tugged his shirtsleeve. "Do you really think they would?"

"Do you remember the Mr. Todd I told you about?" When she nodded, he continued. "He and Mrs. Lovett are working together in the pie shop now, and they've got plenty of space. I'm sure neither of them would mind, seeing how she's so beauti—I mean, in such a desperate situation." He glanced toward Johanna, who favored him with a smile.

"I'll go ask right now!" he declared, exaggerating the deepness of his voice a tad. Upon reaching the door, he pulled it open and tossed his hair back. "Fear not, Johanna, I'll help stop this madness!" he announced, just before a huge gust of wind nearly knocked him flat. He shook his head wildly before shutting the door and taking off in the direction of Mrs. Lovett's shop.

"He's really quite nice," Johanna ventured.

"You two better not have twelve kids either," Amelia grinned suggestively.

"_What_? Who, us? Why, the very notion—whatever gave you that idea?"

Amelia casually picked up Anthony's book and looked it over. "You're blushing again."

Anthony was admittedly a little uncomfortable around Mr. Todd. His lady-friend was pleasant enough, even though he'd vowed never to accept food from her again. Somehow he got the idea that he didn't really enjoy having him around. Anthony had had to try harder than usual to get him to talk while they were on the ship. He shrugged, passing a woman who was going on about the smoke in the chimney of the pie shop. Crazy people.

He burst through the door without really meaning to—the wind was terrible that day. Mrs. Lovett startled and drove her rolling pin into the counter.

"Is Mr. Todd here?" he inquired politely, dodging Toby, who was running all about the house out of boredom.

"Upstairs," she dug out the rolling pin and observed him curiously. "Why—?"

"Thank you!" he called over his shoulder as he climbed two at a time. He pushed the door open to reveal a very irritated-looking (as usual) Mr. Todd.

"What _is_ it?" he drawled, narrowing his eyes. "Don't I get enough of you already?"

"Well, you see," Anthony began, ignoring the comment, "I need your help. Would you be able to keep a friend safe for me?" When all he received in response was an even more agitated look, he hurried to explain. "That awful Judge Turpin wants to force her to marry him—"

"What of Turpin?" he leaned forward, suddenly interested.

"He wants to marry Johanna," Anthony blurted. "That's her name, Johanna."

At this, Mr. Todd froze. "Johanna?"

"Yes!" Anthony was becoming exasperated, as he often did when talking to him. "Which is even worse because he had his way with her mother, too—" He was shocked into silence when he saw the look he was getting.

"I was only wondering," he added very quietly. "I just thought you might."

Mr. Todd seemed entirely too focused on the floor as he spun the chair around on its legs. He picked up one of his razors and twirled it a few times while looking in his cracked mirror, much to Anthony's dismay.

"This isn't the time for shaving!"

Mr. Todd glared at him, and he was again quieted. He tried not to look too imposing, but had no idea what to say. He glanced at his shoes and all about the room. The silence was even more frustrating, because he'd still not received a straight answer. Anthony considered asking again, but didn't feel comfortable with the way the barber was handling those razors. He began to back away without appearing obvious.

Mr. Todd didn't look up from his table once. "Bring her here."

**Judge Turpin isn't the only one who's Hungry Like the Wolf! Yeah.**


	6. Oh, No

Anthony gratefully backed out of the room, taking care to face the barber until he was at the staircase. Once there, he tripped down the whole flight, nearly plowing right through Toby, who was now laying on his stomach attempting to break a pie.

"Good day, Miss!" he called on his way out the door, much to Mrs. Lovett's increased irritation.

"I know I'm not _that_ bad-looking," she muttered, slamming a few cupboards for emphasis, but he was long gone.

Anthony was quite sure he'd never run so fast in his life. When he got back to the orphanage, the entryway was empty. Realizing everyone was probably asleep, he made sure to make as little noise as possible as he edged toward Amelia's room. He could see the faint light of her lamp through the crack in the door, and he pushed it open warily.

"Anthony!" Amelia whispered as loudly as was possible to still be considered a whisper.

"Amelia!" he responded excitedly. "Where's Johanna?"

"I had to take her home." Amelia crossed her legs and rocked back and forth. "It's late." She glanced around her at some of the other sleeping girls and gave him a pointed look.

"It is." Anthony checked his watch and realized he'd been up far later than he'd intended. "We'll…we'll get this going tomorrow, then?" Amelia nodded before coming to hug him goodnight.

"I told her to start packing, so it won't be long. This will work. We can do it," she said softly.

"Of course we can." He ruffled her hair before leaving her room, taking care to shut the door quietly.

The next morning, Mrs. Lovett was hard at work with her utensils. She wasn't even sure what purpose the whisk served, but she was enjoying herself. She let her mind wander to what that boy could have wanted—kids these days. She rolled her eyes.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Todd descended the steps looking quite dismayed. Mrs. Lovett had to blink a few times to be sure—yes, he _was_ making a facial expression that was somewhat different than his usual scowl.

"What's the matter, Mr. T?"

He paced the room for a moment without answering, something she was quite used to. She idly played with her rolling pin while she waited for him to come up with a response.

"I just—" he spun on his heels before looking back towards the floor and moving his mouth without actually saying anything. "Johanna…"

"Your daughter, right?" she ventured cautiously.

"He wants to…" he began again before stopping once more.

"Mr. T, you'll have to be a bit more detailed, I'm not following."

"He knows where she is, he's going to…bring Johanna here." Mr. Todd made this last point so quietly that Mrs. Lovett had to edge forward to hear him.

"Did I get that bit right?" she rested on her elbows. "That fellow who just breezed past me all quick-like—" At this, the door opened, but they both ignored it in favor of more exciting news.

"He's bringing Johanna here!" Mr. Todd's eyes widened upon saying this louder, as though he finally understood their magnitude. "He knows where she is, and he's going to bring her here!"

Mrs. Lovett's surprised smile faded as soon as he said this, and Mr. Todd misunderstood it at first. When he realized her gaze was no longer on him, he turned to see none other than Judge Turpin and that _repulsive_ Beadle of his standing in the doorway.

"Is that so?" Judge Turpin interjected coolly. Mr. Todd breathed in before blindly feeling for his razor. He could have sworn it was in his back pocket…

"I suppose the shave Beadle Bamford was so anxious for me to have will simply need to wait." Judge Turpin glared at both of them. "I have more pressing matters to attend to." With that, he gave the Beadle a sharp jerk of his head before storming back through the door.

Mr. Todd stared at the area that had just been occupied by Turpin, not speaking.

"Mr. T…?" Mrs. Lovett very anxiously, _very_ carefully, asked, keeping herself a safe three paces away. His hold on the countertop tightened before he shut his eyes tightly, let forth a guttural growl, and flew back up the stairs. Mrs. Lovett flinched slightly upon hearing how hard his door slammed.

"Who's Johanna?" Toby piped up from his spot under the table.

"I guess we'll see, dear." Mrs. Lovett looked up once more before retreating into the pantry. There was still work to be done.

Judge Turpin was taking such quick strides that the Beadle found himself struggling to keep up with him.

"We'll just see about this," he muttered, throwing the front door open.

"Judge, wait—you shouldn't do anything rash, that is…" Upon seeing the look Turpin was giving him, the Beadle shut his mouth immediately. The judge didn't even stop to take off his coat—he simply loped straight up the stairs.

"Now she's done it," the Beadle sighed.

Johanna, unaware of any of the current happenings, was hard at work getting together what she felt necessary to bring. She could hardly contain her excitement at not being forced to spend the rest of her life with Turpin. That alone was enough to get her moving. In her elation, she danced over to her cage and unlocked the door. The birds gave her curious looks, and she tilted it slightly.

"Go on now, I won't be the only one getting their freedom today!" It took a bit of encouragement, but at last they both hopped onto the windowsill, hesitant to go any further. When she pushed the window open and nudged them a little, they seemed to get the message.

Johanna was so busy watching them fly away that she failed to hear the door open. When she turned to get back to her packing, she gasped.

"Y-you really should knock before entering the room of a lady," Johanna said scathingly.

"I see no lady here."

Turpin surveyed the area. "Just as I thought." He flung his arm toward her bag, sending its contents flying. "Where did you think you were going?"

She didn't answer. On the Judge's order, the Beadle ran in eagerly.

"Take her," he glared. At this, Johanna's eyes widened further. _Take_ her? Her thoughts quickly switched from fearing for her life to fearing for her virtue. She struggled to avoid him, but the two men in the room were too fast for her.

"Not to worry, dear," the Beadle sneered, yanking her towards the hallway. "There's a special place for crazies like you, and I think we'll pay them a visit."


	7. Johanna

"Release me at once!" Johanna protested, trying to wiggle out of Beadle Bamford's grip.

"Gladly." He thrust her into the waiting carriage and climbed in after her. "Before too long I'll have released you for good." He signaled for the driver to go, and before Johanna could even attempt to jump out, he had her by the arms again.

"Where are you taking me?" she glared at him through her hair, now hanging across her face.

"Doesn't matter, you're not coming back." The Beadle sat back in the seat and occasionally checked out the window as they drove. Johanna was sitting, rather, being forced to sprawl, across him sullenly. She would have tried to run, honestly, but she had no idea where she was now.

"You're repulsive!" she blurted suddenly, still twisted in such a way that she was half-facing the window. The Beadle was taken aback.

"Well, you're…" he paused and Johanna tossed her head angrily to try and rid herself of the hair in her face. "You're _blonde_."

"I don't even know what color your hair is! Do you ever bathe?" The driver was making a serious effort not to listen—his orders were simply to do as the judge told him. Following orders, he mused, was difficult when there were young women around.

"That's uncharacteristically brutal of you." Beadle Bamford swallowed hard. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes!" she struggled in vain, now partly-hysterical, and attempted to kick him as each syllable came out. "You've…got…a…hideous…_mole_!"

"Well, I never!" He pulled her up by her sleeve. "It's a good thing we've arrived, or I'd have thrown you out on the side of the road just then!" Apparently immune to her violent resistance, the Beadle kicked open the door and hauled her out with him. She braced herself when he tried to go up the steps, and it seemed to be working until he got fed up and threw her over his shoulder. Once accomplished, he was able to nudge open the door.

"Let go! Put me down this instant!" she pounded his back and he exhaled loudly. He should have just gone to art school like he'd wanted to, and he wouldn't even be in this mess.

"Again, gladly." He dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground, and a sordid-looking man entered from a back room. Johanna's eyes widened. She didn't even want to know what she was doing here. What would Amelia say?

Amelia!

She would never know where she was! She might not even know she'd gone! Johanna drew her knees to her chest and pounded her head on them. What if she thought she'd left on her own?

"Yes sir, insane as they come." The Beadle nudged her with his foot. "Just look at her. What person in their right mind would consider her rational?"

"You're not getting any arguments from me," the man laughed. "I'll just throw her in with my other blondes."

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding." Beadle Bamford gave him a strange sort of smile and backed out through the door quickly. "She's your problem now."

"Shame." The man tilted her chin up. "It's always the pretty ones." Without another word, he pulled her to her feet and towards the back room. He ended up half-dragging her, with the fight she was putting up.

"Let go, let go, let go, I'm not insane!" she dug her heels into the ground upon reaching a row of cells, each holding several mad women of all sorts. He reached into his pocket to unlock the one laying claim to those with yellow hair not unlike Johanna's.

"I see. In you go." He gave her a shove and quickly locked the door. The other ladies seemed to take Johanna's cue and screamed along with her as the man left the room as hastily as he could. While they all went wild at once, Johanna sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands, saying to herself over and over, 'why?'

"Anthony, get up!" Amelia all but knocked him off his bed with the pillow she was swinging in his direction.

"Ah—" he protested through a mouthful of cushion. He pushed it off him and laughed. "Amelia, you'll have to quiet down, everyone else is still sleeping."

"Well, I'm not!" she bounced on his mattress. "We have to go bring Johanna to your friend!" She attempted to haul him out of the sheets herself, but he stopped her.

"Might I at least get dressed first?" he asked pointedly.

"Oh, Anthony, we _live_ together." Amelia rolled her eyes. "You're like my brother."

"Fine," he conceded, rolling off his bed. Amelia waited impatiently as he pulled on his trousers and hunted for his shoes in the closet.

"She's going to think we've forgotten her!" Amelia wheedled.

"She won't, either." He paused. "Will she?"

"Not if we hurry!" she bounded out the door and poked her head back in, jerking it to the side. "Come _on_!"

"I'm coming," Anthony exhaled, tripping over himself as he tried to follow her while pulling his shoe on. By the time he got to the sitting room, she was already pulling the door open.

"And where're you going at this hour?" an obviously irritated Brianne called from her doorway, clad in her nightgown.

"Oh—well, we just…I thought I might…" Amelia toed the ground. "I thought I might show Anthony some of the new shops before everyone woke up and kept his attentions."

Brianne seemed to consider this. "All right then. Just…make a little less noise, will you? Allen's only just gotten to sleep."

"Sorry!" she whispered. By now, Anthony had caught up with her and was backing outside. Brianne nodded and waved before retreating back into her room.

"Let's go!" Amelia leaped off the main step and into a huge pile of snow. Anthony laughed upon seeing her fall face first into the whiteness.

"Oh, you!" she pelted him with a crudely-made snowball before pushing herself back up and onto the road. "Now we can go."

"You've been saying that since you woke me up," he teased, keeping pace with her as she calmed down a little.

"I'm sorry I'm so excited," she said. "It's just that I didn't even know I _had_ a sister until yesterday, and if it's anyone, I'm so happy it's her. I really like her, Anthony."

"Oh, I understand."

"What was that?" she jammed her hands into her coat pockets and glanced up eagerly.

"Oh, I—nothing, I was just saying that…I understand why you would…well, you know."

"Anthony Hope!" she hit him in the arm. "You _like_ her!"

"I do not!" he sputtered, cheeks reddening anyway.

"Oh, you do so!" she danced around him. "Why, that's lovely!"

"It is? I mean…it would be, if I were to—not that I do, but hypothetically…if I did, it would…?"

"It'd be absolutely brilliant!" she slowed to a twirl. "But you said you don't, so…I suppose there's no point in telling you how _she_ feels…"

"She…has she mentioned me?" Anthony's mouth hung open slightly. "Amelia, wait! Wait, what has she said?"

"Oh, nothing of consequence, since you clearly wouldn't be interested," she giggled, sprinting off toward Johanna's house.

"Amelia, wait, you can't just do that, you've got to tell me if she's said something, what if it was something _mean_?"

He caught up with her, breathing heavily. For a girl, she could cover some distance. "Amelia?"

"Where…where is she?" Amelia stood at the gate, peering through what she could see of Johanna's window. The room was, from what she could see, vacant. Before Anthony could stop her, she'd stepped over the fence and was quickly pulling herself up the side of the house.

"Amelia, be careful…oh, why do I bother with that?" he said no more, but watched her carefully to be sure she wouldn't fall, or—he shuddered—get caught. Amelia leaned in through the window for a few minutes, then slid back down the way she had come. In a matter of seconds afterwards, she was back in front of him, looking most distraught.

"Anthony, she's _gone_!"

"Gone?" His breath froze in his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Her room's all torn apart, and she isn't there, I checked! I even called her name! Anthony, something must have happened to her!"

"This is terrible!" he gasped. "We have to find her…"

"Where would she be? What could have happened to her?" Amelia, fully panicking now, looked wide-eyed up at Anthony.

"I don't know, I—I'm not sure…" he stood as tall as he could and looked all about the house, but found nothing. He even turned around to look—and gasped again.

"Where do you keep coming from?" he demanded. The beggar woman simply blinked. They both waited, and she smiled pleasantly and turned in circles a few times before cocking her head and giving them a strange look.

"_They've taken her_!" she screeched so suddenly that Anthony nearly knocked Amelia to the ground in his shock.

"Taken who? Johanna? Do you know where she is?"

"There's a place for crazies like you," she replied, eyes narrowed.

"What?" Anthony put his hands on her shoulders. "No, I need to know where _Johanna_ is."

"Crazies!" she barked once more before coughing. Amelia looked on in bemusement as the woman interjected, "Smoke! Smoke! Sign of the devil!" And promptly took off toward the chimney that was smoking in the distance.

"What good did that do us?" Anthony sighed.

"Wait!" Amelia breathed. "Crazies! Anthony!"

"What, not you too…"

"_Anthony_!" Amelia exhaled impatiently. "Judge Turpin must've done something to her, and I bet she saw! Now what do you think that could translate to?"

Anthony pondered this new information. "She's hidden…"

"Yes!"

"At…the…"

"Yes, yes!"

"The bookstore!"

"What?" Amelia shook her head. "No, Anthony, that has nothing to do with crazies…"

"Clearly you've never attempted to purchase the Grimm Tales…"

"Anthony, please!" Amelia stared straight at him. "Crazies. Insane. _Asylum._"

"That must be it!" he stomped into the several inches of snow. "Amelia, follow me. I know what we can do."


	8. Sweeney

"Anthony, if you think we're going to be able to break her out of an asylum guarded by who knows how many drunken men with knives and clubs, you're the one who should be committed," Amelia protested, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. "Do you honestly have a plan?"

"Well, sort of," he admitted. "I know someone who can help us make up a better one."

"How do you figure that this fellow will know any more than we do?"

"Because if we're going to act like criminals, we should at least talk to one to get into the right mindset."

"We're going to the prison?" Amelia stopped dead. "What did they _teach_ you on that ship? Are you completely addled by all that salt water you swallowed?"

"Calm down," he answered, pulling her by the arm. "We're just going to go see Mr. Todd, right around this corner. He'll know what to do, I'm sure of it."

"_How_ do you know?"

"Amelia!" Anthony exploded, exasperated. "He's been to _Australia_. They only send the worst kinds of people there, and even if he was there on false charges, he's picked some things up. I'm certain."

"You didn't have to yell at me," she muttered under her breath. "It was just a question."

He stopped in front of the door to the pie shop. "I'm sorry. I'm very worried."

"Well…so am I." Amelia folded her arms. "She's my sister, so I think I would know."

"Shall I buy you a pie to make up for it?" he asked cheekily.

"No!" Amelia's eyes widened. "You're forgiven! Anything but that!"

Anthony laughed and pushed the door open. Toby swooped by, playing with one of the rolling pins. Mrs. Lovett cocked her head upon seeing the two of them together.

"Amelia, how've you been these days? I haven't seen Brianne around in weeks."

"I've been fine, thank you. Brianne's pretty busy with the new babies we've been getting down at the orphanage."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes lit up. "I'll be sure to send them all some pies."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be like…nothing they've ever had," Amelia said, trying not to giggle.

"Have you seen Mr. Todd at all?" Anthony ventured, earning himself a friendly kind of glare.

"You ought to rent the room next to him, you're over here so much," Mrs. Lovett remarked, flipping the oven shut. "He's up in his room, but I don't know if I'd go in there if I were you. He's right upset about something to do with his daughter." Her eyes narrowed. "As I recall, this happened shortly after you left."

"Oh, no, no," Anthony said hastily. "I haven't done anything, I really just need to ask him something."

"Your funeral," she shrugged. "At least if he kills you I won't have to keep cleaning up the snow you track in here."

Amelia looked taken aback, and Mrs. Lovett quickly assured her she was joking. Anthony tugged on her sleeve.

"I'm not going up there," she whispered. "This man sounds like he's dangerous! I don't want to get killed by some…evil razor or something!"

"That's silly," Anthony chided. "Mr. Todd would never murder anyone, much less with razors."

"Well, I'm staying here."

"Suit yourself, maybe you'll get to taste-test." He turned to go.

"Wait, wait! I'm coming." She followed closely behind him through the door and up the stairs to the outside entrance. Anthony knocked on the door and waited, then once more. When nothing happened, Amelia began to discreetly move backwards.

"We're not leaving," Anthony said firmly. He grabbed the doorknob and shoved it open himself, much to the shock of Mr. Todd, who was in the corner pretending to ignore them.

"What are you doing in here?" he growled in so low a voice even Anthony took a generous step behind him.

"My friend and I," Anthony said, emphasizing Amelia's presence, "came to talk to you about Johanna."

"She's not here," Sweeney muttered. "Of course, you would know that, because you were the one who was supposed to bring her." He moved to his mirror and began offhandedly sharpening razors.

"Well, there's a problem," he ventured.

"I know," he snapped. "Not five minutes after you left, that bloody judge walked in and heard the entire thing."

"We know what he did," Anthony said pleadingly. "He took her, and we need you to help us figure out how to get her back."

Sweeney said nothing, just continued to fix his space.

"We know where she is," Anthony offered. His statement was met with nothing more than a casual shrug.

"She's at the asylum. We could get her out if we hurry, but there probably isn't much time." Anthony's voice was hardly higher than a whisper now.

"What's the point?" Sweeney mumbled bitterly, turning.

"The point is that she's my sister, and we need to get her back right now!" Amelia burst from her spot by the door. "I know you probably don't care about her because you don't even know her, but the least you could do is act a little more concerned! How would you feel if it was someone important to you that you might not ever see again? Do you even feel _anything_? You've just been in the corner this whole time acting apathetic!"

There was a stunned silence throughout the whole room, and for a moment no one moved. Sweeney simply stared at her, mouth slightly agape, though no words came out.

"Anthony, this was the wrong person to come to," Amelia said softly. "He doesn't care about Johanna or you or me or anyone."

When more minutes passed and still no one said anything, Anthony looked up from the floor where his eyes had been fixed.

"You're right, I suppose." He bowed his head once more. "We'll just be going, then." Amelia gently pulled him toward the door. Dejected, Anthony followed, reaching for the knob behind him as they left.

"Wait."

His head snapped back to Sweeney, sitting on the table with the mirror.

"Just…come back." He said it so quietly they almost couldn't hear him, but cautiously Anthony stepped back into the room. Amelia kept a safe distance behind him, but came in as well.

Sweeney's eyes seemed to have grown to twice their usual size, unnerving to Anthony, who was used to seeing them narrowed in disgust. His breathing was audibly quicker and harder, and he actually seemed _human_. Both hands were holding him steady under the counter, gripping the surface so hard it could have snapped.

"Mr. Todd?" Anthony offered quietly.

He choked on one of his breaths before speaking. "It's not that I don't…never for one _second_ did I ever stop…I just…"

Amelia suddenly felt horrendously guilty for her outburst, but had no idea what to say. Anthony carefully put his hand near Sweeney's shoulder, and when he was met with no protest, put it on his back.

"Amelia didn't mean that," he said. "She's just very, very upset about losing her sister. They just realized they were related a few days ago, and the whole experience has been jarring, to say the least."

Sweeney nodded slightly before blinking a few times and hurriedly wiping his sleeve across his face.

"I'm really very sorry," Amelia said quickly upon noticing this. "I was speaking without thinking, I tend to do that a lot…"

"I think I know what we can do," Sweeney said, gradually slipping back into his usual demeanor. "You say she's at Bedlam, correct?"

"That's the place," Anthony affirmed, still a bit distraught.

"They sell the girls' hair there," Sweeney explained. "What you two can do is pose as apprentices. To me."

"But why…?" Amelia began.

"If you ask for hair to make wigs with, he'll ask you what kind you want. As I recall, you'll be allowed inside a cell to pick the shade of your choosing."

"And we go in and say we want Johanna's?" Anthony asked, not quite understanding.

"You go in and _take_ Johanna, and run," Sweeney replied. "You have to move feloniously quickly, and you need to know what to do if you get chased. I guarantee you're not going to go unnoticed."

"I see." Anthony's face lit up. "What can we bring, then? Shall I use my jackknife?"

Sweeney rolled his eyes. "If you want them to kill you, then yes. Use your knife."

"Well, what would you suggest?" Anthony snapped. "Uh…sir."

"Something with a little more force." He pulled open a drawer and withdrew his pistol. Anthony stayed put, mostly out of surprise.

"Well, would you like me to throw it to you? It's loaded, there's a good chance it'd explode," Sweeney offered, looking slightly amused. Hastily, Anthony stepped forward to take it.

"What will I do?" Amelia asked, still quite ashamed for her behavior.

"Anthony is the apprentice, and you're his servant." His eyes held a glint of mischief, which Anthony swore he'd never seen before in the entire year of knowing him.

"Okay." She quickly stepped back behind her friend.

"And we come here when we've got her," Anthony confirmed.

"Correct." He had gone back to sharpening his razors. "This time, no detours, if you don't mind."

"No, sir. None. We'll…um…wonderful plan, really."

"Go put it to action, or it's no use to anyone."

"Thank you for helping us so much," Anthony said gratefully, offering up a smile. Sweeney looked at him for several moments, and Amelia could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on the barber's face too.

Before she could stop herself, she ran up and hugged him, much to his chagrin. He stood there awkwardly, having absolutely no clue how to respond. Uncomfortably, he gave her quick pat on the back.

"I'm really very sorry," she assured him. "It won't happen again. And I didn't mean anything I said. You're not unfeeling at all, because I think you really do care about people. Sometimes, anyway."

"Come on, Amelia," Anthony nudged her towards the door. "You're rambling again."

Sweeney watched them go, and favored them with a flick of his hand that _might_ have been a wave. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing. He dropped his arm and narrowed his eyes.

"Shut that door behind you! This room's freezing enough as it is."


End file.
